The Real OC

**I've asked Sarah to guest post for me so I have more time to spend teaching these unruly children of San Diego. Enjoy!**

The lovely Kelli has asked that I write a guest post for her. Obviously she's gotten very lazy lately and doesn't want to write her own blog. I can't really blame her though; she does have a running scooter. Since mine is currently being worked on I have scads more spare time than she does, so I will happily oblige her request. I expect full payment from Kelli in form of scarves, jewelry and abundant adoration.

I've known Kelli since we were wee little ones. Only I don't so much remember her. Kelli is three years younger than I am, and a couple of grades apart from me so I have scarce memories of her growing up. I remember many details about her older sister, and her mum, but not quite as many Kelli memories. It's a shame really since she's fabulous. I'm very lucky she decided to date one of my best friend's and re-enter my life.

Kelli grew up in Oak City, the town adjacent to mine. Growing up I was jealous of all the OC kids. Yes, regardless of what you've heard Oak City is the real OC. I have the shirt to prove it:
I remember many summer nights spent making out with boys in Oak City canyon, playing kick ball in the church parking lot, and even once spray painting my name in pink all over the streets there.

Camping trips in the OC canyon are still among my favorite things. I always wanted to be an Oak City girl, but since that isn't possible I'll settle for making THE real OC girl my scooter BFF. It's unlikely that our scooters will meet anytime soon, but I have a feeling they'd instantly hit it off by spending afternoons shopping, followed by pillow fights in just their panties. Our scooters are obviously as dirty as we are. I think I can speak for both of us and say we're very proud of our little motorized bitches. Like mothers, like daughters.